


I Like Big Cocks and I Cannot Lie

by eeyore9990



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And there's no plot to be found, M/M, PWP, Porn, Really it's quite dirty, filthy porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-26
Updated: 2012-06-26
Packaged: 2017-11-08 13:57:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Snape's clothing disappears, Harry gets more than an eyeful.  He <i>really</i> likes what he sees.</p><p>Written for the prompt: <i>A malfunctioning protection charm placed over Hogwarts causes people's clothing to disappear at random. Harry & Snape discover each others' true feelings, or at least, their true physical reactions to each other.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	I Like Big Cocks and I Cannot Lie

**Author's Note:**

> See the prompt and the summary? That's the entirety of the plot. No, really. Everything under the cut is porn. I make no apologies (except to Sir Mix-a-Lot— _sorry, dude_ ).
> 
> Thanks, as always, are due to my fabulous beta, Leela.

The room was warm, almost stifling in the heat of summer. The humidity that lay heavy in the air only served to increase the tension Harry felt. He squirmed on top of his bed, the sheets sticking to his skin. The bottle of lube dripped steadily onto his bollocks, the cooler temperature of the thick liquid sending shocks through him with every drop.

Harry bit his lip, muffling the sharp whimper that rose in his chest as he circled the rim of his arsehole with one lube-drenched finger. The sensitive skin quivered under his touch and he pushed, easing his finger into his own body even as he allowed his eyelids to flutter closed.

He hooked his finger and teased his prostate, mind swimming with images that had been teasing him all day. A cock, thick and dusky against a muscular thigh. Bollocks that hung full and heavy behind it. Harry rolled onto his knees, the angle so awkward that he could feel the beginning of an ache in his wrist. He pressed his sweaty face into the pillow and released all the sounds he'd been holding back.

Another finger joined the first and he rocked into his own touch, imagining that it was someone else, someone whose touch wasn't gentle or kind or slow. Someone who would use his body without regard for his _feelings_. Someone who would use _him_.

He braced himself on one elbow and pushed up, blinking sweat from his eyes as he looked around the bed. The bottle of lube rolled against his knee, and he had just enough control of his mental processes to wonder when he'd dropped it. Then, he saw it. 

The thickness of the plug was almost terrifying, but it was that very quality which had called to Harry, made him purchase it, caused him to leave it lying in wait for this day. He fumbled for it, knocked it to the edge of the bed and nearly screamed with frustration. He managed to slip the tip of one finger over the base and flip the plug back toward him, close enough that he could grab it. 

He upended the bottle of lube over it, watched the surface become shiny and wet, ignoring the oily spatters that landed on the sheets. They could be ruined; he didn't care. All he cared about was impaling himself on the plug, feeling it stretch and fill him, a poor—but plausible—substitute for what he really wanted. Because he knew with every fibre of his being that what he really wanted would never be his. 

The pillows from the bed propped the plug enough so that he could lower himself over it. It slipped once, turning sideways, and Harry shouted in frustration before holding it steady between two fingers and sinking down onto the rounded tip. 

Two fingers hadn't been enough, not nearly enough, but Harry rocked back and forth, working his way onto the plug millimetre by millimetre, sharp cries bursting from his chest even as sweat poured down his body at his exertions. The pain of being stretched too wide, filled too full, of the unrelenting plug digging into the flesh of his arse before slipping into his hole… it was almost too much. Almost.

But there was an underlying spark of pleasure that built in his belly until his erection, which had begun to deflate as he pressed himself further and further down, filled again, pressing against the soft linens that covered his pillow. When the plug was fully seated in his arse, Harry rocked back and forth, dragging his cock against the linens and allowing the material to rub over the sensitized skin of his arse. 

He didn't even touch himself, didn't _have_ to because he'd been holding back his orgasm from the moment he'd seen that cock, thick and full even while limp. All he had to do was let himself go.

* * *

Harry walked through the halls, the press and rub of the plug buried in his arse reigniting the fire in his belly until he could feel his cock pressing hard against his trousers. A notice-me-not spell was the most he could do for that before he reached the entrance to the Great Hall. The rest of the staff was already gathered, just waiting for him to start their own end-of-year celebrations.

Harry approached the head table and sat down gingerly, feeling the burning shock of pleasure as the hard wooden seat pushed the stiff plug further into him. He grabbed for the edge of the table, forgetting himself for a moment as he rocked forward and back. A trickle of sweat ran down the side of his neck, slipping under his thin shirt and pulling him slowly back into his surroundings.

"Potter," Snape said, his voice sending lust rushing down Harry's spine.

Licking at the sweat that was beading above his upper lip, Harry turned his head. "Sir?" he asked, and even _he_ could hear the huskiness of his voice. He cleared his throat and blinked, trying to focus vision that had gone blurry around the edges when he'd sat down.

"What do you want?"

Harry almost let loose a sharp burst of sobbing laughter at that. What did he want? He wanted to be fucked, mercilessly, without regard for anything other than mutual pleasure. He wanted to be held down and pounded into. He wanted the sweat on his body to not be his own. He wanted his throat to go raw with his own screams for more. He wanted the burning stretch of a too-large cock reaming him without pity.

"I…" Harry blinked at the room around him, his muddled mind unable to come up with words for the food that had appeared in feast-like fashion on the table in front of them.

Snape stood and grabbed Harry's arm, pulling him from his chair. The other professors looked up, their expressions ranging from blank to concerned to angry, but Snape silenced them all with a black stare and a muttered, "Potter needs the infirmary. Idiot is burning up with fever."

Harry stumbled through the castle at Snape's side, every step shifting the plug inside him. His teeth bit into his lips, holding them closed, containing the moans that wanted to tumble free. They weren't going to the infirmary; even with his vision ruined with lust, he knew that. The turns were wrong, there were no stairs, and Snape's strides were far too purposeful to be those of a concerned escort.

Not that Snape would ever feel anything as simple as concern for Harry.

Snape flung a door open and Harry looked around, trying to pinpoint his surroundings, but Snape wasn't done dragging him about. Another door and another and then Harry was being pushed forward so violently that he stumbled.

But his knees came up against something soft, and when he put his hands down to break his fall, they landed in the downy softness of a duvet. 

"You," Snape said, his voice harsh, "have exactly ten seconds to stop me." His robes fell from his body, showing that he'd been wearing nothing beneath, and there it was again. Long and thick when flaccid, Snape's cock was filling as Harry watched.

Harry flopped onto his back, reaching out with numb fingers, fumbling at empty space even as his mouth watered at the sight of Snape's cock. He laughed then, and the sound even _tasted_ of hysteria. "Please." It was almost a whisper; he'd been holding back his need for so long that vocalising it now seemed… wrong. Strange.

Harry's entire body was jerked forward, and his waist would likely be bruised in the morning, but Harry didn't care because Snape was flinging his ruined trousers across the room and attacking the thin cotton of his boxers. Those were dispatched with a flick of Snape's wrist before Snape grabbed Harry's thighs and pulled him to the edge of the bed and then… stopped.

Snape's face was flushed, his hair sticking to the side of his neck, as he stared down between Harry's legs. And then their gazes met, and Harry groaned at the look in Snape's eyes. His hips rocked up of their own volition at the pure _heat_ in Snape's expression.

Snape reached down, pushed Harry's thighs up and out, his hands tightening on Harry's legs until Harry took the hint and held them in that position. Then Snape let go and a heartbeat later, Harry felt Snape give the plug in his arse an almost vicious twist, pushing it up inside him.

And Harry screamed. White spots stole his vision as pleasure rolled through him. Babbling incoherently, Harry didn't resist when Snape manhandled him over onto his stomach—fucking _wiry strength_ —or when Snape's hands lifted his and wrapped them around the top of the headboard. Harry pulled himself up, pushing his arse out as he rested his forehead against the blessedly smooth, cool wood. He was begging already, _knew_ he was begging, had likely _been_ begging since he'd walked into the Great Hall for dinner, but he didn't care. Couldn't care because the plug was being pulled—agonizingly slowly—from his arse.

He was empty then, so empty, and he could hear the rustling of fabric, the opening and closing of a drawer, and then… _oh god_. The tip of a bottle pressed into his still-grasping hole, lube squeezed directly into him, and Harry moaned at the sensation. His arms went slack and his chest lowered to the bed, his spine curving almost painfully as he rocked backward. 

Snape's hands gripped Harry's hips, Snape's thumbs pulled his arse cheeks apart, digging slightly into the skin just around his hole. Trickles of lube escaped, tickling coolly against his flesh, and Snape rubbed it into his skin, along his perineum, his thumbnails scratching at the underside of Harry's bollocks.

"Yes, yes, yes," Harry mumbled, unable to summon the strength to speak at even normal volume. "Now, please, now. Fuck!"

Snape's fingers flexed, squeezing the muscles in Harry's arse, and the bed shifted under Harry just before Snape rammed his cock full-length into him. 

Harry's scream then was silent, his face screwed up, eyes clenched shut as his grip tightened on the headboard. The plug had done little to prepare Harry for the true size of Snape's cock. So wide, so thick, it stretched Harry's arse to limits he'd never experienced before, and… And Harry could only hold on, his body overheating as Snape used his grip on Harry's hips to snap him forward and back. The burn drove Harry's arousal higher, the slap of skin resounding in the otherwise quiet room.

Breathing was almost impossible; every thrust causing Harry choke on a gasp until his head spun, his fingers slipping free of the headboard. He braced himself against the flat surface, tried to drag in a full breath, but Snape changed his angle, swivelled his hips, and Harry was lost again. Pain and pleasure combined, curling around his spine and weighing heavily in his cock. Sending shards of near painful, desperately pleasurable arousal jolting through him.

Harry had been riding the knife-edge of arousal so long that his orgasm caught him completely by surprise. One jab of Snape's cock to his prostate and Harry was done, every muscle clenching almost to the point of pain, his arse contracting around Snape's cock. 

Snape pulled free, rolling Harry onto his back once more, lifting Harry's leg—with no help from Harry, who was no longer capable of controlling his own body at that point—and plunging back in. A line of sweat started at Snape's temple and slowly slid down the side of his face, dripping off his jaw and landing on Harry's lower lip. 

Without thinking, Harry licked it off, and that small action caused Snape's eyes to flare wide. His fingers—wrapped around Harry's ankle—contracted, and with one last thrust, he went still above Harry, his cock swelling inside Harry's arse just before he came.

Harry felt the spasms that shook Snape, winced as Snape's entire weight fell against him in the aftermath, pushing his leg back to an uncomfortable angle. He wriggled as much as his exhausted body would let him and finally unhooked his leg from Snape's shoulder, easing it to the bed and flexing his foot as the circulation returned to it.

After his breathing evened out, Harry turned his head and looked directly into Snape's eyes. "Should I tender my resignation?" he asked, his voice wrecked from his earlier shouts.

Snape glanced away from him, a soft snort blowing his breath against Harry's cheek. "Don't be an idiot. This was an… aberration."

Pushing up onto an elbow, Harry studied Snape, his head tilted to one side. "That's a shame." The narrow-eyed, suspicious look he received in return made Harry shrug. "I wouldn't have minded trying this again some time." Crawling from the bed, Harry picked up Snape's robes and slipped them over his head. 

"Potter."

Harry glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows raised, expecting Snape to reprimand him for the minor theft.

"If I catch you wearing this thing again," Snape threw the plug at Harry, who caught it automatically, "I won't be responsible for my actions."

The latent threat in Snape's tone was all the promise Harry needed. "I'll keep that in mind," Harry said and tucked the plug into a pocket before walking out the door, Snape's robes dragging on the floor behind him.


End file.
